


Birds Of A Feather

by WorseOmens



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is a bastard, Aziraphale’s “fashion sense”, Bickering, Crowley is so done, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Flying date, Humour, Idiots in Love, M/M, They’re basically an old married couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:49:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorseOmens/pseuds/WorseOmens
Summary: Aziraphale’s flying outfit is not to Crowley’s tastes.Does he care? No. In fact, he relishes it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley
Comments: 19
Kudos: 142





	Birds Of A Feather

A flying date! What a capital idea. Since they started moving things along in their relationship, they kept finding new ways to make this love their own. What better way than to share an experience that only celestial entities — and some birds and insects — could have? They’d set a date, a nice secluded location, and Aziraphale was beside himself with excitement. 

Crowley was... waiting. He’d been pleasantly surprised by how excited Aziraphale was at the idea of going flying together, but now the day had come, he wondered if he’d started to get cold feet. He’d been in his room for ages. He was ‘getting ready’, whatever that meant. Maybe he’d just forgotten to groom his wings recently or something. Crowley wouldn’t have bothered if he had. It was just him, what did he care if Aziraphale was a bit scruffy? It was still him. 

“Aha! There you are,” Aziraphale exclaimed from upstairs. There was another rustle and a few footsteps. Crowley paced around the shelves to settle his impatience. 

“Ready!” the angel called.

“Finally, took you long enough — “ he said, rounding the corner back to where Aziraphale was stood. He stopped dead, exasperation washing over him like a wave. “No.”

“What?” he said, his hands proudly on his hips. He gave a little wiggle. He was wearing an old-fashioned flying jacket, which might’ve looked cool, if not for the ridiculously tight leather cap and round aviator goggles on his face. 

“Take it off,” Crowley said firmly.

“Take what off?” he said, tugging his jacket straight. 

“All of it,” he said, gesturing at the outfit. 

“Oh, my,” Aziraphale said with a coy grin, admiring himself in the glass covering one of his more precious shelves. “Do you find it that attractive?”

Crowley’s face twitched. “N — attr — wh — no,” he spluttered, gritting his teeth and trying not to think of how endearingly pleased with himself he was. “You look like you should be doing synchronised swimming, not flying. Lose the cap — and the goggles.”

He quirked a brow, though it was almost lost in the thin sliver of space between his goggles and cap. “They’re no different than what you wear.”

His jaw dropped. “They’re completely different!” he said indignantly. “Mine are — they’re — “

“Yes?”

“Oi, don’t get smug,” he said, though it had the opposite effect. “Mine are tinted. It’s fashionable. So there.”

“Oh. I see,” he said, and snapped his fingers. The glass in the goggles turned translucent black. “There. Problem solved, yes?”

“No, problem not solved,” he said, stepping closer and making broad gestures at him. Aziraphale cut him off before he could continue complaining.

“Look, Crowley,” he said, nudging him, looking at their reflections. “We match! What an adorable couple we make, wouldn’t you say?”

He looked. In some sense, yes, they wore matching sunglasses, even if _his_ were completely different and in no way related to Aziraphale’s, at all. They didn’t cling to his face like a frightened octopus, for a start. He looked down at him with a frown. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he said. “You’re tormenting me.”

Aziraphale smiled innocently. “Would I do such a thing?”


End file.
